Of Kings and Sinners
by Meulin's Disciple
Summary: Formerly "Moonlight Screams". There are seven who died young, seven sinners who succumbed to the darkness within. Seven kings who are the elite of the arrancar, above even the Espada. We shall follow the lives of these seven as time passes. OC pairings.
1. Silent Screams

_**A/N:**__ Ok, peoples, this the first chapter of my rewrite for "The Rain Never Ends". I personally think it's a major improvement (it's also longer than the original first chapter) over the original first chapter. I hope you enjoy._

_And of course, once you finish reading, don't forget to review. It's always nice to see other peoples opinions. ^^_

_If I'm lucky, maybe I'll attract some new readers along with my fans of this story. Heh heh..._

___Anyway, enjoy!_

**_Important Edit:_**_ The ENTIRE direction of this story has changed, starting in chapter 5. Instead of this story being about one OC (Nicolette), I have decided that all seven of the Pecadoras (all of them are OCs) would play a huge role in the story. Chapter 5 of this story introduces two new (ones that hasn't been introduced in the story yet) Pecadoras, but most chapters will have their main focus on only one Pecadora per chapter. The chapters will not focus on a specific Pecadora in any particular order; chapters may or may not focus on the same character for more than one chapter in a row. There will also be more pairings that will be introduced as time goes on along with the original pairing of Grimmjow and Nicolette. Hopefully, those who already read this story will be reading this edit to this author's note as well, so they'll be in the loop, so to speak. Thank you for reading this note. Now, enjoy the story._

* * *

"Off with her head!"

"Death to the traitor!"

"Dye the roads with her blood!"

The jeers came from every roadside as the horse-drawn wooden cart's wheels clacked on the uneven paving in the darkness of the night. The cart's passenger, obscured by a black hooded cloak, silently sat as the cart clumsily bumped and jumped to its destination. Were the cart not guarded by four tall men wielding a spear and two holstered muskets each, the cloaked girl would likely have been tortured to death by the vengeful bystanders and her head displayed proudly on a pike.

A raven-haired woman wearing an elegant black dress, who could be described as being neither young nor old, walked on one side of the cart; a blonde-haired man who had seen many years come and go walked along the other side, occasionally sneering at the girl sitting on a haystack on the cart.

The cart finally came to a stop.

The girl, who appeared no older than eighteen, rose from her spot on the haystack, brushing off any rogue pieces of the dry plant material from her cloak. The action wasn't necessary considering the circumstances, but it was more out of anxiety than anything else. A guard opened the fencelike barrier between her and the rest of Paris and offered his hand as a final courtesy to the adolescent girl. She accepted his assistance and stepped down from the simple carriage.

She reluctantly turned around to see what she greatly desired yet feared. The guillotine several yards in front of her was taller than she expected; she had heard stories of beheadings and had even witnessed one or two herself, but actually being one of the many condemned whose blood stained the guillotine's wrought iron blade during what had been appropriately dubbed "The Reign of Terror" was admittedly frightening.

But as terrified as she was, she wanted this. Her life had been nothing worth living in her opinion. She lived every day with an abusive father. She would've had to spend a lifetime married with an even worse man, Jean-Pierre Robert, had an insane twist of fate not have her falsely accused of treason just as she was walking down the aisle to be forcefully married to a man she didn't even know, let alone love.

The condemned young woman saw this as a blessing; she saw it as a way out. When she testified in what could barely be called a fair trial, she had admitted to her "guilt". Traitors to France were more often than not at that time, executed… and she wanted death.

"Nicolette Angelique, Duchess of Paris," the executioner spoke, tearing Nicolette from her thoughts, "you have been found guilty of treason. Your punishment is death."

Nicolette nodded curtly before removing her cloak and tossing it carelessly into the wind, letting it drift in the air. Her pale blonde hair flowed down her back like a waterfall. Her amethyst eyes looked at the metal blade of the guillotine as though they were entranced by the blood of countless victims and rust encrusted on it. She shook her head to bring herself back to reality and she stoically walked up the staircase that lead to the platform on which the instrument which would soon be her downfall. Step by step, she walked closer to her death. As nervous as she was, there was no backing out at this point, even if she wanted to. By pleading guilty, she had sealed her fate.

She finally reached the large block of wood on which she was to lay. She stood behind it, getting a closer look at the blade, resisting the urge to run her slender fingers across the metal and rust; it would already be slicing through her neck in mere moments. No need to scare herself more than she already was.

Nicolette turned to face the public one final time. "Au revoir, devils of France. I hope you enjoy living in eternal damnation in this hell you've created." she spat, her slight accent rang clear in her voice and her face was contorted slightly in disgust towards… well, pretty much everything. France was in complete chaos and it was quickly spiraling out of control; pretty much everyone lived in fear of each other. Nicolette was able to use this anarchic state to her advantage, to meet her own ends, but she would wish death due to this out-of-control state to very few people; she could count the amount of people she actually wished death upon with the fingers on one hand.

Nicolette laid on her stomach on the wooden block in front of her as soon as the executioner raised the blade. The wooden arch that would secure her there closed snugly around her neck, her hair falling around her face and hanging in the air. A bishop with a bible open in one hand who stood in front of the guillotine and several feet below Nicolette softly asked, sorrow in his eyes at such a young girl having to die, "Any last words before you are brought to God's domain, child?"

Nicolette took a tentative breath, seeing as how it would be her last, and said, "May God open all of your eyes to this horror of your creation." A few tears trickled down her face.

It was silent for a few moments. "I'm ready." Nicolette whispered. The executioner nodded although the guillotine's newest victim couldn't see it and he released the blade, letting it slice neatly through flesh and bone and vein and artery. The girl's head fell with a soft thump to the ground.

Then it was silent, and within the silence were unsounded screams from the girl. Her mixed emotions were so strong, that the screams sounded nonetheless. The silence was haunting, as though the audience that was once so intent on her death were listening to her saddened screams. But very few seconds had gone by before the moment had passed and the Parisians remembered that the very thing they had desired had happened. And they cheered.

Then it began to rain.

Whether the storm was the heavens celebrating with the citizens or the sky mourning for the girl, along with her silently crying mother, the raven-haired woman who followed the wagon that carried her dead daughter to her doom, no one really knew.

The citizens thought the heavens were celebrating Nicolette's death along with them.

The heartbroken mother thought that raindrops were the tears of God, mourning over her daughter, who was just barely an adult.

And in the darkness it rained, and the citizens cheered, and the mother mourned.


	2. Howling in the Bloody Rain

_**A/N:** Hey peoples! Guess what! I'm gonna start doing a review reply section, starting... well, this chapter! XD_

_Let the replies begin!!! =D_

_**DanceScreamSing:** Ok. First of all, I really don't mind your nitpicking; I actually appreciate it. To answer some of your said nitpicking, I'd like to say first of all, that perhaps making Nicolette a duchess may have been... a bit extreme... Heh heh. Nonetheless, I'm still okay with it. And I'm not exactly _too _familiar with the French Revolution/Reign of Terror, mostly the basic stuff I've learned in history classes, so there may be a few facts i get incorrect. Like, you, I'm also unsure of wheter or not Paris had a duchess. As a matter of fact, I'm pretty unfamiliar with the social system in 18th century France. I actually do know about the hair-cutting thing, but I decided to ignore that because I wanted Nicolette to keep her long hair. I'm horrible, aren't I? But nonetheless, I appreciate your feedback XD. And by the way, be happy you didn't read the original version of this story... x_x_

_**Emerald Gaze:** I'm glad you're liking the rewrite so far. As a matter of fact, one of the main reasons I rewrote the story was because I made Grimmjow so ridiculously out of character, that I actually felt somewhat embarrassed that I did that... And yes, thre will be much more of time for the relationship to develop. It just jumped from them just meeting, to them having sex like not even a day later, and I found that very stupid, rushed, and just plain impossible. I definitely plan not to let that happen again _._

_**xTexyArkx:** Glad you're liking it =3._

_**HeadstrongNozomi:** Updates depend on my mood, when I have an idea, and when I have time, so keep that in mind, okay? I will update as often as possible though. I hope you enjoy the rewrite. I know I just utterly loathed the original._

_Ok, so with that out of the way, read, enjoy, and review. Reviews always make me feel good inside ^^.  
_

_**Quick Edit:** I deeply apologize for the delay in the update. I actually posted this chapter on Saturday, but due to some glitch on the site, it apparently didn't show up, so I have reposted the chapter. No changes, aside from this quick edit in the author's note, have been made to the chapter._

* * *

The sound of screaming and cheering and the shattering of raindrops against the unevenly paved cobblestones was more than enough to give a certain unfortunate girl a horrid migraine as she was roused from unconsciousness. "Nngh…" Nicolette moaned, vigorously massaging her scalp with her fingertips in a vain attempt to alleviate at least some of the pain. The throbbing in her skull made it painful to even open her eyes.

After some minutes of trying, she finally managed to open her eyes. The sight before her was shocking to say the least. The cheering people of all social classes, the bloody guillotine, the head on the ground, the blood flowing from the neck of the headless and lifeless body, the blood being washed away by the consistent storm as quickly as it fell; it was just too much.

She backed away only to find her vision going hazy and her balance diminishing. In an almost hypnotic trance she continued her efforts, only to fall rather ungracefully on her behind. "I… I can't be…" she gulped, her eyes wide, "n-no… I-I just can't be…!" tears in her eyes, she managed to scamper onto her hands and knees, crawling along the road, closer and closer to the crowd; closer and closer to insanity.

Yes, she had wanted this, but just the knowledge that what had transpired, of _how_ it had transpired… it frightened her. Wanting death was nothing like the experience. A plethora of emotions coursed through her body; fear, anger, loneliness, sorrow, hatred… Oh yes, _especially_ hatred. Her father and fiancée were who drove her towards madness, and she had followed the path paved with good intentions, the path to her own personal Hell and now she was paying the price for not reading the signs along the way.

Within the muddle of mixed emotions, hatred is indeed what stuck out… and it's what took over. She looked through the crowd with a rabid, instinct-driven look in her eyes and upon spotting him amongst the large group of people, charged towards the man who sneered at her as she rode the old wagon to her death; her father.

"You did this to me!!!" she screamed, her heart pounding and adrenaline reaching towards every part of her body as she charged at him wildly, only to fall backwards on her butt yet again when a sharp tug at her chest pulled her down.

"What the…?" she felt the center of her chest, only to feel the icy-cold texture of metal. She groped at it briefly with her eyes closed, determining that it was a chain of some sort. She opened her eyes and looked down at the chain, the large magenta orbs lazily trailing along each steel link, her anger forgotten for the moment. Nicolette's eyes widened in surprise when she noticed how the great length of chain wrapped around the guillotine. Once again, she was overwhelmed by fear and a sense of panic. Without thinking, her hands gripped the chain, but it was such a blur what had happened during and shortly after.

She yanked at the chain, a horrid pain wracked her chest, a hole slowly appeared as flesh was peeled, torn away, darkness filling the void while at the same time leaving it empty. A white fluid dripped from the pores on her face, solidifying into a skeletal mask, her arms lengthened, becoming gangly; the hands morphing into two-fingered claws, claws that appeared to have the sole purpose of rending flesh apart. Draconic wings with feathers the color of the twilight sky burst forth from her back in a shower of scarlet; the color completely drained from her skin, leaving it as white as the mask

Her feet transformed into horrendous talons. Nicolette's clothes changed; rather than a dress, a stone gray ankle-length skirt took its place, a skin-tight ultramarine leotard covering the rest of her body although out of her back, shoulders, upper arms, and hips grew lush and long greenish fur. A long, furred tail sprouted from her lower back and floppy rabbit ears replaced her human ones; her hair became the color of flames, completing the nightmarish transformation from human to hollow as the chain detached from her chest and disintegrated.

The citizens of Paris continued to celebrate, drinking beer, dancing, reciting satirical poems about the so-called traitor to France, unaware of the vengeful spirit who hungered for their souls although a roar resounded through the thundering sky.

xXx

"Kurotsuchi-taichou! Kurotsuchi-taichou!" Rin shouted, tripping over his own feet to get to the eccentric captain of the Twelfth Division.

"What is it, Rin?!" said captain growled, "Can't you see I'm busy?!"

"But taichou, it's important!" the sweets-loving assistant persisted. Mayuri rolled his eyes, pretty sure that his clumsy oaf of a coworker had just absentmindedly added ammonia to the wash… again. Nonetheless, he followed Rin to the laboratory anyway; as much as he was sure that whatever happened was Rin's fault, it never hurt to make sure.

Mayuri looked at the screens; nothing out of the usual so far despite the loudly blaring siren. Just a hollow. Two seconds later, he did a double take, finally noticing the strangely colored blip on one particular screen. "Interesting…" he muttered. Interesting indeed; the blip was a color not too often seen. The captain typed in some sort of code known only to select members of his division, which brought up several visuals.

"Its reiatsu is off the charts…" he noted with mild surprise. It was then he remembered something he had heard many years ago; something that had, to his initial shock, helped tremendously at times such as this, rare as such times were.

" 'A creature born out of not just sorrow, but anger and hatred. The Kings of the Night rely on instinct to keep them strong and intelligence to keep themselves alive; a potent mixture created in the prime of their youth.'… So… there's another one, eh?" Mayuri chuckled.

"Another what, taichou?" Akon asked casually, just having returned from delivering paperwork to the Soutaichou.

"Another Rey del Noche. A rare form of hollow distinct from the main evolutionary line. In other words, a plus must transform directly into one; evolution into a Rey del Noche is not possible. This contributes to the almost nonexistent population; only seven individuals with the creation of this one." Mayuri explained. He continued to type, bringing up another visual. He carefully scrutinized the screen.

"This one appears to be quite the rarity; it appears to be a succubus hollow." He chuckled again.

"A _what_?" Akon questioned, making a gesture similar to raising an eyebrow.

xXx

Mangled corpses littered the general area around the guillotine, terror forever engraved on their faces. Nicolette ran her tongue along one bloody finger, savoring the metallic taste of the crimson liquid. The raven-haired woman stared blankly at her demonic-looking daughter. Nicolette knew her mother could see her. Of all the people whose souls she devoured, only her mother was spared the horrible fate. "Go." Nicolette commanded simply. The woman stared in horror for a moment longer and then darted in the opposite direction, towards their mansion, although pretty much anywhere aside from the newly created graveyard would've suited her just fine.

Nicolette lifted a claw to the air, tapping the space, tearing it open; she walked into the void.

xXx

A grumbling Grimmjow was practically stomping through the white-sanded desert of Hueco Mundo, his hands balled tightly into fists at his sides. " 'Find the Rey del Noche' he says. 'Bring it back to Las Noches' he says. He might as well fucking say to put on a collar and roll over! That damn Ulquiorra gets all the fun assignments and he doesn't even give a shit! And what am _I _doing?! I'm playing babysitter for some fucking ass thing that I don't even know what the fuck it _looks like_!!!" Grimmjow roared, driving his foot into the nearest crystalline tree, shattering it into sparkling shards and glittering dust.

"You seem to have an attitude problem."

Grimmjow's head snapped towards the voice; he scowled. "Fuck off." he snarled and began to walk away, but stopped mid-step after finally feeling the power of the hollow's reiatsu. He looked at her again, narrowing his eyes. _What the hell _is_ this thing?!_

"Are you the new Rey del Noche?" Grimmjow demanded. He didn't really need to ask; he could tell with ease that this hollow neither a Vasto Lorde nor an Adjuchas, and most certainly not a Gillian, so logic _would_ lean towards the hollow being the Rey de Noche he was commanded to find.

"I don't know what I am." Nicolette replied, laughing humorlessly, "I was beheaded, I tore out some chain from my chest, and here I am."

"You're comin' with me. Aizen wants ya in his army." Grimmjow said sternly, as though the Rey del Noche in question had no choice in the matter.

"What can this Aizen give me that I could desire." she asked cautiously.

"He can give ya more power, maybe some kind of twisted sense of belonging. Other than that, I don't fucking know." he spat impatienty, "So are ya comin' or not?!"

Nicolette mulled over the offer for a short moment before deciding. "Fine… There's not much else I can do here anyway." she sighed, "Lead the way…"

Grimmjow just walked away towards the white palace, not really caring if she followed or not. She followed him, allowing herself a short moment to mourn the loss of her own life, but allowed a moment afterwards to celebrate the new life she had, although it was a life after death.


	3. Lock and Key

_**A/N:** Heya peoples. Sorry about the... slightly late update... Wait a minute... since when do I keep a timetable for updates?!_

_..._

_Uhhh... Uhhhh..._

_..._

_-realizes that story isn't showing under Grimmjow filter- O_o..... AAAAAAAAAH!!! -fixes-_

_... Ok... now that I've fixed that..._

_Review response time! =D_

_**XXSayurihimesamaXX:** I'm glad you think so! ^^ I was trying to make the rewrite darker than the original, which really wasn't that dark at all, so I'm happy to see that I'm accomplishing that goal =P_

_**HeadstrongNozomi:** Thanks... Examining the original story helped me see what I could've done better and what mistakes I made. I feel that that, along with practice, has made me a better writer._

_And kudos to everyone who has read and enjoyed/favorited/alerted/reviewed this story. You know who you peoples are! =3_

_Sorry for the random shit in this chapter's author's note... It is almost 1 a.m and I'm tired as hell... gonna get something to drink then I'm gonna sleep till my grandmother has to force me out of bed._

_And you know what I like to wake up to? Reviews, so don't forget to leave one! =D -gets shot-_

_Read and enjoy, and it would be appreciated if you could also do the above ^^;_

* * *

Pain.

It was all Nicolette could think about. Sharp, unrelenting spasms tore through her practically mummified body. This Aizen-sama she had heard about only hours earlier had torn her mask from her face and had her cocooned in bandages only seconds after seeing her. She could still feel blood running like a river down her face and over her chest and stomach and legs before the scarlet elixir pooled at her feet; she could feel the blood drying and crusting at her feet. Her breathing was shaky and broken. Her airways would constrict momentarily with each painful throb. She had tried screaming. She had tried _crying_, but even that was near impossible, denying her any comfort; even the comfort of tears.

The creak of a door, the sound of footsteps; an end to this torture was in sight. Nicolette held her breath, as though she feared that even the sound of the slightest inhalation would drive off her visitors and leave her to suffer for who-knows how much longer. "Can we fucking get this over and done with already?!" a very annoyed—and very familiar—voice asked through audibly clenched teeth. She had yet to learn his name, but she pretty much hated him already; he was a total asshole as far as Nicolette was concerned.

"Patience, Grimmjow. This is a special occasion and we should treat it as such." Aizen said calmly.

"Tch… I still say we should make her our slave or somethin'" Grimmjow muttered.

"I wouldn't say no to a blowjob on demand…" Nnoitra eerily sniggered, imagining the scenario.

"Ya know, ya shouldn't be sayin' stuff like that 'bout your superior." Gin sing-sang.

Grimmjow and Nnoitra looked at Gin with a shocked expression that showed their ignorance regarding this particular matter. Gin's perpetual grin only grew. Nnoitra sneered at the idea of yet another female arrancar being stronger than him. Grimmjow just scowled and mumbled, "Whatever…" under his breath. Most of the other Espada (with the obvious exception of Ulquiorra, and Tia, who just whispered, "Idiots…") rolled their eyes at their comrades' stupidity.

"Uhh… is she _supposed_ to do that…?" Coyote drawled, a finger lazily pointing to the heavily bandaged Nicolette. Muffled screams and shouts and curses could be heard from the shaking lump wrapped in linen.

"Perhaps… it would be best if we released her." Aizen decided. He took the Hogyouku from the glass box in which it was kept and allowed it to merge with his fingers, letting it leech off of his power. The resulting surge caused the bandages to crack as though they were made of papier-mâché. The pieces fell to the floor beneath the girl who was only seconds before encased within them. Nicolette was back to her original self… mostly. She had retained several of the features that changed upon her transformation into a hollow. Her skin was still bone-white. Her hair remained a mixture of red, yellow, and orange—creating the illusion of a tangible fire—rather than the creamy, almost white, blonde it once was. The rabbit ears—as well as the tail, albeit much shorter and the same color as her hair—were still there. And of course, her hollow hole remained in its spot, centered below her collarbone.

Upon being released from her cloth prison, Nicolette found that the pain had subsided. Her mind, however, was on other things and the relief took a backseat to these new thoughts. That same feral gleam she had at the site of her death returned to her eyes. She looked around the bleak, white room for the two who had suggested her humiliation. Her obvious target would be Grimmjow, seeing how she already recognized him. Spotting the blue-haired arrancar, she sonidoed behind him and sent him flying with a single punch to his jaw. He crashed into the wall, leaving a gaping hole there from which Grimmjow emerged.

"What the hell was that for?!" Grimmjow roared, moving his slightly dislocated jaw before it fell back into place with a painful crack. He rubbed the spot where Nicolette had hit him.

"Don't think I didn't hear you and the other bastard!" Nicolette sneered.

"When do I get my blowjob?"

Nicolette's head turned immediately to face Nnoitra. "Do I _look_ like a harlot to you?" she angrily growled.

"I would just love to tit fuck you…" Nnoitra said dreamily, too lost in his own sexual fantasies involving the new arrancar to even hear her. Nicolette raised an eyebrow at Nnoitra's comment.

It was just before Nicolette was about to inflict physical harm on Nnoitra, as she did to Grimmjow, that Tia sighed and walked over to Nicolette, holding up one of her furry ears and into it whispered, "You're naked, sweetie."

"What do you mean I'm—" the rabbit-eared arrancar started, but stopped when she looked down, "Oh my…"

"Now that I think about it, you got some nice tits and ass, _that_ I'll admit!" Grimmjow guffawed, practically rolling on the floor laughing. Nicolette's face flushed in a mixture of modesty and anger.

"They aren't _that_ big…" she murmured sheepishly.

"Like hell they aren't!" Nnoitra cackled.

Nicolette glared at him. She didn't bother to cover herself at this point; everyone had already seen everything she had by now so there wasn't much reason to try. A katana materialized in her hand. The blade looked like it was made of bone rather than metal. The guard was odd; it was black and resembled a lily, making the blade looked like it was growing from the center of the curved "petals". Right beneath the guard was blood-red fur. The hilt was white on the area beneath the fur, but faded to black at the bottom of the handle.

Nicolette held the hilt, the point of the blade held just above the ground. She opened her mouth to say her sword's release command, but a voice interrupted her. "Dark Utterance number fifty-five, Brand of the Fifth Sinner." Aizen's held his index finger in the air, pointing towards Nicolette's left shoulder. A slender black beam shot from the finger, burning a large number five onto the front of her shoulder. The sudden sharp pain caught her off guard, in effect stopping her from releasing her zanpakuto.

"What… was that…?" Nicolette asked slowly.

" 'That', was a spell that marks you. It's a tattoo that marks your rank within my army, nothing more… Quinta Pecadora…"

"Quinta Pecadora…" Nicolette repeated to herself, searching within her repertoire of Spanish words for the meaning; she was schooled since early childhood in the language, "The Fifth Sinner…?"

"Your sin appears to be lust, Quinta Pecadora." Szayel explained, finally finding it the proper time to speak, "Well, that's what I was able decipher from your hollow form."

Nicolette was silent for only a few moments, as was everyone else. "This is… a lot to take in in only one day." she sighed, putting her hand to her forehead.

"I agree. Get yourself a uniform—you may customize it as you see fit—and get some rest. The Pecadoras wear different uniforms from the Espada; you can find them in the closet to the left." Aizen ordered. Nicolette merely nodded in thanks and walked away.

xXx

"They're _that_ bad?!"

Akon looked at Mayuri incredulously. Surely there was no hollow with… such _powers_! "I'm afraid so. As a matter of fact, they are so powerful and elusive that they're the only category of hollow I have not been able to do physical research on. All of my information is based off of what few observations I've been able to make, and their theorized reiatsu composition." the captain's confirmation did not make Akon feel any better; if the succubus hollow invaded Soul Society, she would probably be able to take down all of Seireitei singlehandedly within a few days time, judging from what the Twelfth Division Captain told him.

xXx

The Quinta Pecadora sighed in relief. She felt so much better now that she was clothed, although she wasn't all that happy about having a potential stalker or two. _I'll have to watch out for the Quinto Espada_, she noted mentally, _he's just like most of the other men in France; chauvinistic pigs who just want a good fuck…_ All her life, Nicolette had been surrounded by men who only wanted women, either for their wealth, their ability to bear them an heir, or simply as a means of sexual satisfaction. Love almost never had a say in the matter. During her time in the real world, there were only two who Nicolette could say loved her: God and her mother. A pretty young woman like Nicolette had many suitors, all of whom she refused.

None of them felt love—true, genuine love—towards her. At first, it was difficult to see who wanted her for her, or who wanted her for her money and her physical feminine charms. But she couldn't, simply _wouldn't_, stay blind to the lies, and so she trained herself to recognize the differences between a truthful man and a sinful liar. The untruths aside, she wasn't the kind of girl who fell in love at the tip of a hat; she believed that true love could only blossom between those who spent time together, who _developed_ affection, an attraction towards the other.

And when the lies finally became too much to bear, she had locked her heart away and tossed the key to some unknown location where only the most true and devoted man could find it. She was normally very wary around members of the opposite sex, although she didn't always show it on the outside. For example, she couldn't say she trusted Aizen; it would take a _lot_ more than what he had done for her to prove himself worthy of her trust. She knew right away, however, that if they had ever established a relationship of any kind, it would be one shared between a worker and their employer and nothing more.

An unexpected muffled chant of "Fight to the death!" broke out amongst countless numeros, tearing Nicolette away from her thoughts. Nicolette left her room, given to her by Aizen about ten or so minutes previous, only to find her suspicions correct. There were hundreds of numeros tightly packed together; the chanting was louder.

Nicolette shoved and pushed and even threw the unnamed arrancars, whose only purpose were to serve as cannon fodder, out of the way. "What is going on here?!" she screamed so she would be heard. And heard she was.

"This… little _bitch_" a pointed finger in some random female arrancar's direction, "disrespected me! She bumped into me in the hallway and refuses to beg for my forgiveness and acknowledge me as God!" an elderly, yet powerful voice boomed.

"Leave her be, _Segunda Espada_." Nicolette sneered, using the final two words in an insulting manner.

"I shall no—"

A bright purple light growing larger from the tip of the rabbit-eared arrancar's finger made Barragan forget his words of defiance.

"Fine!" the aged Espada spat, "But the next time she does such a thing, either she dies, or you will have to kill me to squelch my wrath."

"I would do the second with much pleasure." Nicolette growled. Barragan glared at her; she returned the look. He then gave a "harrumph" and left, stomping towards his chambers.

"Thank you…" the arrancar girl murmured shyly.

Nicolette sighed. "Think nothing of it… Now go, before you get yourself into more trouble." The numero did as she was told and went down a different hallway.

The other foot soldiers looked at her in shock; no one had _ever_ stood up to Barragan.

"And what are you all staring at? The show's over! Now scat, leave, away with you all!"

To say that they left the corridor in record time would be an understatement.

"Good lord, I'm already feeling stressed." Nicolette muttered as she too finally walked away, not caring at the moment where she was going.

"Maybe you should relax a bit, babe."

Nicolette halted before even taking three steps; _his_ voice was the _last_ thing she wanted to hear at the moment.

"What do you want…?" Nicolette's clipped question was full of contempt.


	4. Agreement

_**A/N:**__ Sorry I took so long with this chapter; it was... a real pain in the ass to write... -_-_

_Well, I finally have it done, and I'm thinking that's what matters... right? 8D_

_-dodges flying chair-_

_..._

_Tough audience... o3o_

_Anyway, looking at next chapter's forecast, there is a 100% chance of lemon along with a 50% chance of nosebleeds. It is reccommended that you provide yourselves with a box of tissue next chapter for that very reason._

_I never mention this, because I forget to, but my stories are UN-BETAED! This means that any grammar mistakes or mispellings are COMPLETELY my fault, because I do NOT proofread! XD_

_One last thing. If I have any French history portrayed inaccurately in this chapter, I apologize ahead of time. Also sorry if my French is a bit off. I started learning French this year. I'm actually the best student in my class, according to my teacher... ^^"_

_But I'm not here to brag._

_Alright. Read, enjoy, review, blah, blah, blah, blah... =3_

* * *

"What do you want… _Sexta_…?" Nicolette turned around to see Grimmjow leaning on the wall behind her.

"I _have_ a name." Grimmjow muttered.

"Yes, because I was quite sure you were nameless." Nicolette said sarcastically, rolling her eyes.

"Tch… You know what, bitch? Let me tell you something," Grimmjow pushed off the wall and walked slowly in her direction, "you may be a higher rank than me," another step, "you may be my 'superior'," yet another step towards the Sinner, "and you may be stronger than me, but let me tell you right now, _I_ am king and rest assured that someday, you _will respect and bow before me_." he was hissing the words only inches away from her face at this point. Nicolette had been pretty damn patient with the Sexta (if dislocating someone's jaw with the force from a single punch could be called "being patient") but by now she had just plain _had it_.

"What is your _problem_? You seem to have some sort of vendetta against me and I have done absolutely _nothing_ to you! That fact aside, I have been very patient and I have tried to get along with you, Sexta—"

"Oh, _boo-hoo_! And I suppose the baby needs her blankie too!" Grimmjow mocked with a scowl, "Well, listen up, bitch; here in Hueco Mundo, no one is friends with the other! Maybe a temporary alliance, if it can even be called that, but _here_, it's every arrancar for themselves; it's been that way ever since we were just hollows, so get that through your mind, you empty-headed slut!"

Nicolette felt anger rapidly bubbling up within her, but then felt it dissipate somewhat when she looked into Grimmjow's eyes and saw, not anger or disgust, but rather something akin to loneliness and frustration. Of course—as the Quinta Pecadora—she couldn't let that "slut" comment go without punishment; she had a level of self-respect, and she was quite intent on keeping it. So without warning, Nicolette aimed a powerful blow to Grimmjow's stomach, of course being careful to avoid his hollow hole above (no point in punching someone where it won't hurt… or do anything whatsoever…)

When her fist made contact, Grimmjow stood his ground, his feet barely shifted from the punch. The blow's force was concentrated in the point of contact, causing Grimmjow to cough up blood and fall to his knees from just the sheer power put into the hit. "Fu… Fucking bitch…" he panted breathlessly.

Nicolette merely responded with a small "humph" then turned around and walked away.

xXx

"Stupid little cunt…" Grimmjow growled as he stalked down the now-pitch black hallways of Las Noches—Aizen had ordered a lights-out so he could get some sleep (hey, even evil traitorous masterminds need their beauty rest)—licking his wounds, "She needs to be taught her damn place!" he slammed his fist into the nearest wall.

"If you want me…"

Grimmjow stopped at the sound of a soothing feminine voice singing something to the melody of "Frère Jacques" although the melody was altered so it had a haunting feel to it. A piano could also be heard beautifully playing to the corrupted melody.

He remained quiet and listened to the mysterious siren nearby. He did have more than a slight clue as to who it was though, if the French accent was anything to go by.

"If you want me,

will you try? Will you try?

To get my attention, to get my attention,

in the night, in the night…"

Grimmjow heard the piano play the last set of notes as though preparing for another verse.

"In the moonlight, in the moonlight.

Darkness reigns, darkness reigns,

as your heart is breaking, as your heart is breaking,

in my grasp, in my grasp…"

Once again, whoever was masterfully playing the piano replayed the last several notes, this time to prepare for one final verse.

"I reject you, I reject you,

and your lies, and your lies,

memories are bleeding, memories are bleeding,

from your heart, from your heart."

One final time, the piano played the last notes of the song and ended slowly, adding a small flourish of extra notes at the end. At that point, Grimmjow finally stepped into view of the singing enchantress. What he wasn't really expecting was to be caught.

"Ah, bonsoir, Grimmjow, good evening. What are you doing up at this ungodly hour?" Nicolette asked nonchalantly, almost emotionlessly.

Grimmjow scowled at her. "I'm up 'cause I'm up. Got a problem with that? Besides, you're up too."

Nicolette finally looked at him and narrowed her eyes slightly. "_I_ was being productive."

"You were singing." Grimmjow stated curtly.

"Et j'aime chanter."

Grimmjow blinked dumbly.

"I said, 'And I love to sing'…" Nicolette clarified not all to kindly and then muttered, "Dumbass…" She then nodded in the direction of the arrancar playing the piano, signaling for him to leave; he ran.

"What did you call me?" Grimmjow stomped towards her and glared into her eyes; Nicolette met his glare head-on. Grimmjow then growled at her and aimed a blow at her stomach, returning the favor from earlier. Nicolette barely budged, but it still hurt.

"Fil d'une chienne!" Nicolette snarled after recovering from the sudden hit, "Son of a bitch!"

Nicolette wrapped her hand around Grimmjow's throat and threw him to the floor. He was being uncharacteristically rude, even for him, and Nicolette _knew_ he was just doing it to piss her off. For some reason, he just _hated her_, and she _just didn't know why_! "What is it that you have against me?" Nicolette hissed.

"Tch… Why the hell should I tell _you_? As a matter of fact, why _would_ I tell you?" Grimmjow muttered, narrowing his eyes.

"_Tell me_." Nicolette said threateningly.

Grimmjow kept his eyes narrowed for a moment longer and then—slowly—a malicious toothy grin crossed his face, "I have nothing against you. I was testing you; I need a fuck buddy." he said crudely.

"What makes you think I would agree to such a thing?" Nicolette growled, her eyes narrowing.

"You get hot when you're around me…" Grimmjow whispered, the grin never fading; it wasn't a question, it was a statement, a _fact_.

She punched him in the jaw. Hard.

"You know _nothing_ about me!" she screamed. Not because she was angry. Oh no, she wasn't angry; she was s_cared_. He had _read her_. At first, she assumed that the strange lustful heat she had been suffering from had something to do with being a succubus hollow… but it could've been that he was the sexiest being she had ever seen or maybe it was the way he riled her up or… _Shit… I'm getting hot again… Damn him…!_

She made the decision to consult Szayel after "lights-out time" was over, but at the moment… she _really_ needed _some sort_ of release… and she wasn't about to touch herself in front of Grimmjow. Hell, she wasn't going to touch herself, _period_.

After all… she had someone right in front of her to help her with her little problem.

Now under normal circumstances, she wouldn't even consider such a proposition, considering her religious views. However, the circumstances were most certainly _not_ what could be considered normal. She was _dead_.

God couldn't touch her; she had already _lived her life_. "Damn, that's one hell of an arm you got!" Grimmjow complained while rubbing his sore mandible, "… Makes me wonder how you'd be in bed…" he murmured, his voice husky.

"… Fine… But there are to be… some rules…" Nicolette conceded.

Grimmjow narrowed his eyes, "Whaddya want?"

"First and foremost, I am allowed the topmost position, should I desire it."

"… Uggh… Fine."

"Secondly, I only find three forms of intercourse acceptable: … Vaginal, oral, and anal—as long as the experience is pleasurable for me as well. I'm also flexible with whatever positions within this range that you find suitable. I'm fine with most, if not all, forms of foreplay as well."

"I thought you French Christians were _against_ ass fucking."

"For one thing, I'm Catholic and for another, I'm more open-minded than the French lawmakers."

"Well, whatever, works for me. Not many women around here are exactly too interested in having a cock in their ass. Anything else?"

"Yes. One last thing."

"Name it… Can't be any worse than having to be an uke whenever you feel like it."

"First of all, I would make quite certain you enjoy being beneath me… But more to the point, my final condition is that I am allowed use of your body at any time."

"As long as the same thing applies to you, then we've got a deal."

Nicolette leered mischievously at the Sexta. "Bien sur. Of course."

"By the way, Nikki…" Grimmjow whispered next to the Pecadora's ear, "… I don't share." Nicolette went behind Grimmjow and nibbled the shell of his ear softly.

"Nor do I, mon ami… nor do I…" Nicolette pulled away after a few seconds. Grimmjow then started to walk down the hallway.

"Where are you going?" Nicolette asked, a bit confused. Grimmjow turned around, a smirk amongst his features.

"My room. Five minutes. Be there…" he said sultrily.

Nicolette nodded. "Right."


	5. Kindness

**_A/N:_**_ Woly shit! How long has it been since I last updated this story?_

_..._

_Well, anyway, this story is taking a COMPLETELY new direction. PLEASE read the edited author's note in chapter 1 for details. Oh, and... no lemon this chapter; sorry! But I promise that there (probably) will be a lemon next chapter. ^^"_

_Well, anyway, just do the usual. Read, enjoy, and please review. Reviews for this story seem rather scarce nowadays... ^^"_

_

* * *

_

_Knock, knock_.

A female voice, frail and elderly, laced with a soft English accent, "Come in."

"Must you do that all the time…?" Nicolette sighed, shaking her head.

"Must I _rescind_ my invitation?" the woman retorted lightheartedly.

Nicolette grumbled something in French before opening the door, entering the room, and closing it with a _click_. She raised an eyebrow, "You wear that ridiculous outfit in the comfort of your own room?"

"We both do." the woman said, eyes never leaving the book in her hand, even flipping a page. The woman's clothing was indeed strange. Most of her body was swathed in a black hooded robe, her head, save her left eye, was obscured by a large wolf skull. She wore gloves and fabric shoes, both of white cloth.

"Doesn't your façade ever make you uncomfortable?" Nicolette implored, keeping her eyebrow raised and crossing her arms.

"Hunching my back becomes painful from time to time." the thickly robed elderly woman chuckled softly, but paused upon hearing a tenseness in Nicolette's voice, "I have a feeling you're not here to lecture me on my personal choices… What's wrong, dear? Take a seat and explain; I'm all ears."

And so Nicolette explained her practically split-second agreement with Grimmjow, her conflicting feelings of lust and nervousness and anxiety to the more experienced woman. After all was said, the woman took a deep breath and sighed, shaking her head in disappointment. Well, it seemed that way until a small chuckle came forth from her, soon becoming near-hysterical laughter.

"Mon Dieu! My God, this isn't funny, Benevolence! This is my _innocence_ we're talking about!" Nicolette whined.

"Nicolette, would you like to hear a secret?" Benevolence, the elderly woman said, a hint of laughter remaining in her voice.

"Another skeleton to add to the closet? Sure, why not." the Quinta sighed.

Benevolence smiled, though Nicolette couldn't see it, "… I have a similar arrangement with Gin."

"_Ichimaru-sama_? Are you _insane_, Benevolence? The man's a _sadist_!" Nicolette couldn't help but blurt.

"I believe you're describing Grimmjow, not Gin." Benevolence pointed out.

Nicolette blushed. The other woman chuckled again, "You like the idea of that, don't you?" she teased.

"Shut up!" Nicolette's blush couldn't have possibly been more intense at that very moment.

"Nikki's a masochist~"

"Just _please_ shut _up_!" Nicolette pleaded, mortified.

"Go to him. It may seem crazy now, but I see no other alternative. You won't regret it. The emotions you're feeling, _everything_ you're feeling is normal. Once you actually get into it, it will all dissolve…" Benevolence advised, all traces of joking gone from her aged voice.

"… Did you regret it?"

"Is Malevolence hopelessly in love with Neliel?"

"…"

"Well, the answer to that is 'yes', but no, I didn't, nor will I ever, regret it." Benevolence clarified, "It couldn't hurt to at least give him a try." she quipped.

Nicolette nodded and smiled sheepishly, "Thank you, my friend."

"Any time, any time. Now for Heaven's sake, stop wasting time and screw him senseless already!"

"I hope I can…"

"You're a _succubus_ hollow dear; you don't _need_ hope."

"Oh, shut up, you old dragon."

"Just _go_ already!"

Another smile and a curtsy from Nicolette, and she was gone, the door once again clicking closed behind her.

Benevolence sighed lightly before standing up from the loveseat. She walked—straight-backed—to a large room within the even larger main room, not unlike a large apartment. Within the room, a man with clothing identical to Benevolence (the only perceivable difference was that his robe was black and his shoes and gloves were white. The skull he wore was a large bear skull with the right eye exposed) lay splayed on the small one-person bed.

_Thunk!_

"Blimey, Benevolence! What the bloody hell was _that_ for?" the man exclaimed, his voice tinged with a Cockney accent and sounding as old as Benevolence's. He rubbed the top of the skull was he was struck, as though the action caused him pain.

"I'm going out." Benevolence told him.

"Where?"

"Where do you think?"

"…"

"… Can't you just be happy for me, Malevolence? He makes me happy…"

Malevolence sat up and placed his hands on his lap. "Sorry, Benny. It's an older brother thing, I guess…" he sighed. Benevolence shook her head, amused. Though all they knew about how and when they were born is that Malevolence was born first and was older by a few minutes at most, he usually acted like he was _several years_ Benevolence's elder. "Anyway, I'll be here when you get back."

"Why don't you just go ahead and ask her?"

Malevolence was silent at the sudden question. "At least _someone_ in this place should have a normal romance." Benevolence continued, "Just don't rush things like Nicolette and I did." she chuckled.

"_Nicolette_? What did _she_ get herself into?"

Benevolence explained everything to her brother, chuckling to herself at the way his body stiffened in shock and amazement. "So the _rich girl_ gets herself a playmate… She could've chosen anyone in this bloody place, and she chooses _Grimmjow_?"

"Mm-hmm." Benevolence was walking out the door at this point—hunchbacked once again, "I'll be back later. Perhaps sometime tonight, but more likely tomorrow."

"Alright then." And the door, once again, clicked shut. Malevolence sighed to himself. "Why _don't_ I ask her…?" Malevolence laid back down, and stared at the ceiling, "Rejection, humiliation, sadness, pain, anguish… Didn't we have enough of that when I was _alive_…? Didn't _I_ have enough of that…?"

xXx

A sigh. "I really need better things to read…" Gin sighed again, reading God-knows what page of God-knows what book and he's read that book God-knows how many times from the comfort of his bed, clad in only a white yukata. Then he felt a gentle reiatsu seep into his room through the thin crevices of the closed door.

"Why, Benevolence, please, _do_ come in." Gin said quite happily. The door slowly creaked open, revealing the thickly-robed elderly woman. She looked at him for a moment and then closed the door just as slowly.

"How do you do, Gin." she asked.

"I'm doing just fine, thank you very much. Your secret's safe in here. You know that. Take off that _blanket_ and the other little trinkets; you must be _suffocating_!" Gin said warmly.

Benevolence untied the rope holding her robe in place. She straightened her posture and shook off the robe while with her hands removing the skull she wore over her head. Long and messy black hair like silk—it only had a slight sheen, keeping it from appearing completely dull—fell down to the middle of her back; wolf ears jutted out from beneath her hair (it looked untamed, like it had been tousled for quite some time and left that way). Within the hollow of her throat was her hollow hole. From underneath and behind the bottom hem of her shoulderless, long-sleeved purple top—that hugged her slender waist (she overall looked quite frail)—was a wolf tail, the same black fur as her ears. A long grey ankle-length skirt started from beneath her hip-length top; a long black, rectangular strip of cloth, the end of a fabric belt keeping the skirt in place was visible.

Her face was, in fact, not that of an elderly woman, but of a young woman, in the bloom of an adulthood that had only just begun; her neutral expression looked slightly solemn. Her eyes were a milky white, looking cataract-stricken though she obviously had no problems with her sight. On her chest, was a tattoo of a gothic number seven, the end of the number diving partway into the cleavage of her somewhat small breasts.

"So, Gin…" Benevolence's voice was no longer elderly and frail, but rather youthful and gentle, "… Shall we begin?" she asked, a soft smile on her lips and in her voice.


	6. PETITION: Message to Site Staff

Hello everybody. My name is Melanie (and some of you know me as such) but most of you (now) know me by my pen name, Chasing Noerah, formerly known as Chasing Yuffentine and—in the past—by a few other pen names. Yes, that previous sentence was indeed a blatant and ill-disguised allusion to Aaron Hanson's (egoraptor on Youtube—I hope I spelled his real name right) video "Egorapture".

But that's not important.

What _is_ important is that the moderators of this site have apparently decided that M-rated fics that contain explicit sexual content and/or violence is a threat of some sort and are banding together in an effort to delete the hard work of everybody on this site who has taken the time—often hours at a time—and the effort—a lot of it—to write some of the best erotica I have ever read (because lets face it: most people don't use the site's M-filter for the _violent_ stuff).

No, I am not ignorant of this site's no-MA-fic policy. I have been aware of it for a number of years. However, seeing that numerous (many) others have posted their own erotic fanfiction, I thought it well and good for myself to do the same. And—now speaking to whatever staff of the site who may be reading this, my unique version of the very petition that's been going around the site—do you want to know something? You may say to post on other sites like Adult Fanfiction, but lets be realistic: Fanfiction dot net is possibly THE most popular fanfiction site in America (I cannot even begin to hope to vouch for the rest of the world; different countries likely have their own fanfiction sites that have the same level of popularity as this one), and as such, it has the most fanfiction posted on it and has the highest quanity of high-quality of fanfiction that I have seen. I have seen other sites—Archive of Our Own, Lunaescence, Adult Fanfiction—and they do not even begin to compare to the vastness that is this site. Archive of Our Own, while a quality site, has very little variety of fanfiction within its categories compared to ; Lunaescence is even _smaller_ from what I could gauge, and it's not a very desirable site to be a member of in my opinion, as one's membership is revoked if their account goes inactive for too long. Adult Fanfiction does has a wide variety of MA-rated fanfiction (though it _is_ lacking considerably in some categories and pairings that I very much enjoy reading about), but quite honestly, I _fear_ to read most of the stories on the site; unless it's a story by an author from this site whose erotic fanfiction I enjoy, the stories on Adult Fanfiction just... give me that feeling that I'm going to be reading a bad porno as opposed to a story where I'm going to feel like a voyeur intruding on a beautiful lovemaking session. Plus, considering this site's popularity and its wider variety of ratings, I find that more—or at least higher-quality—is posted here as opposed to Adult Fanfiction. And because this site _is_ so varied in its ratings, I feel more comfortable traversing it.

Speaking of authors on this site, most of them who write and have written the M-rated fics that warrant an MA-rating (myself included; I'm not ashamed to admit it, nor am I scared to; I _do_ have back-ups of at _least_ my good erotica. And that prior statement was not meant as a threat; let me make this clear)—and this is the major point I want to make—use other sites, like the one you oh-so love to recommend (Adult Fanfiction) as a _afterthought_. That's right. These authors aren't _more_ active on Adult Fanfiction; they use it as a tool to assist against plagarism. I will admit that some authors will post less-explicit versions of their stories on this site and the uncut version on others, but many, many writers of erotic fanfiction (which will hereafter be referred to as "lemons") here post the uncut version on here, Fanfiction dot net, their main site.

Again I would like to mention the authors to you, the staff of this site who may be reading and (hopefully) considering my words. We—and I am only referencing us authors in specific who write erotic fanfiction—write lemons not _only_ because we want people to read them, but also because we enjoy doing so, and we enjoy doing so _very_ much. Regardless or whether or not we wish to make a career of it—or even if it _is_ a career for some—it is a passion for us _all_.

We have written and posted lemons here on this site, poured our hearts into their writing, our love for the fandoms of both the series and the pairing (or in some cases, threesome) for which the story was being written about being put into each and every word chosen (and I speak in general when I say these things).

We have chosen _this_ site for a reason, which I have said and will say again: it is a _very_ popular site for fanfiction.

And I would like to point out—perhaps most importantly of all—that if I'm not mistaken, your policy of no-MA-rated fanfiction violates the First Amendment, which promises Freedom Speech and Expression. Yes, it is a policy that is within your Terms and Conditions, but it is also one that not only violates an _Amendment to the American Consitution_, but also a _basic human right_—which is universal (even though not all countries honor all of its words. The United States—however—seems to)—the details of which can be in Article 19 of the Universal Declaration of Human Rights:

"Everyone has the right to freedom of opinion and expression; this right includes freedom to hold opinions without interference and to seek, receive and impart information and ideas through any media and regardless of frontiers."

Check for yourself if you are so inclined, but it _is_ indeed there.

And now I _implore_ you: please, just leave us _be_! Leave us to our craft! Again: we _enjoy_ writing these types of stories, and there are people who enjoy reading them as well. By not allowing the MA-rating on the site, you are stifling our creativity _and_ our rights. Also, when you delete the stories we worked so hard on, it's a _huge_ slap in the face, especially if any such story has a considerable amount of reviews or views or favorites or any combination of the aforementioned, and mostly so if the author has no back-ups. If you are concerned that those who do not desire to read lemons (or young children) will come across one of these stories, simply either require an account to view such stories, or agelock the "MA" rating; either/or would be just fine. Reinstating the "MA" rating would most certainly benefit you—it couldn't hurt; it would mean more visitors to the site, and one of the aforementioned security would simultaneously help prevent mishaps.

Finally, I would just like to close my message with these statements:

You respect the wishes of well-known professional authors and companies, so why can't you respect _our_ wishes as well? If someone decides now to complain about having sexually explicit fanfiction on this site, then they would have no reason to if the "MA" rating were reinstated. If they complained after that, then they could be labeled as an instigator, as most—if not all—of such fanfiction could be very easily avoided.

Thank you for your time,

~Chasing Noerah


End file.
